


Kate Argent, a Study

by mcmotzkin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Keep your hands off my Kate I will fight you, Not an apology, Not an excuse, She's horrible and she knows it, So do I, Warning: Gerard Argent, Warning: Kate Argent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 03:29:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5401310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcmotzkin/pseuds/mcmotzkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief imagining of the life of one Katherine Argent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> warning: casual disregard of canon (or it would have been had i any memory of what the canon actually was)

 

There were kids in that house, she knew it. She made sure of it. She didn’t round them up specifically, but she did pick the perfect date and time. And now they burn.  
  
Kate stood alone on the edge of the Hale property, her fellow hunters long gone, the stench of burning flesh in her nostrils and clinging to her hair. She didn’t enjoy this, not at all, but she owed it to them in a way – to witness their last moments, even if they were monsters. So she kept standing;  
  
Through the screams, through the silence, through the horrible snapping sounds of the wood as it broke, the desperate attempt of Peter Hale to do _something_ , the fire department, the Sheriff, the end.  
  
Stuffing sweaty hands in overly-warm pockets, Kate trekked back through the woods to where she left her car. It’s time to get out of here.

 

-  


The first time she saw werewolf children, she and Chris were eight. Their father brought them down into the basement on the day of the full moon, instructing them of the signs of the impending transformation. They were pups, tiny tiny children with doe eyes, restless, making small whimpering noises all through the day. Looking at them she couldn’t help but feel adult and somber.  
  
The transformation itself was monstrous. It was all she could do to hold back tears of pity and compassion, and there wasn’t anything more anchoring at that moment than her brother’s trembling hand clutching her fingers to the point of pain.

  
Not then, not since, she couldn’t understand what kind of monster would do that to their child. What kind of hideous abomination would knowingly give birth into a life of hurt and suffering. What wolf mother could stand to listen to her child’s breaking bones on the full moon and know she willingly did this to them.

  
She kills the parents out of hate. She kills the children out of pity.

 

-  


You can call a squad of shrinks on her and they’ll probably tell you she’s damaged, traumatized, broken, that her cruelty stems from her practically non-existent childhood, that she dissociates to deal with what she does, that she’s depressed. It’s probably true. She never had any inclination to get an official diagnosis. What do shrinks know of the real world anyway?

  
-  


Kate enjoys the hunt. There’s nothing like it in the whole wide range of human experience. When she’s true with herself (and she tries to be as often as possible,) she wonders how close she really is to the monsters she kills. They strip off their human masks and run wild and tear and claw until she puts a bullet through the back of their heads and watches them disguise themselves as human corpses. She’s not sure she had a lot of humanity to begin with.

 

The Hunt. Listen, it’s not at all like the burning of the pups. Huh. Sounds like a renaissance painting; ‘The Burning of the Pups’. Huh. Listen, sometimes her hands shake thinking about it.  
  
The Hunt is you against the animal, the wrong thing, the bloody muzzle, the thick claws. It’s your blood running fast and hot until you can hear it echo in your ears, it’s your muscles tightening and burning as you run, run, run, you’re the strongest creature in these woods. Remember those PSA posters for animal rights?- “Man is the deadliest predator on earth”- It’s true, it’s true despite werewolves and spirits and monsters you’ve yet to add to the family Bestiary. It’s true and it’s you running with a gun with an arrow with electricity between your fingers, it’s true and you’re circling, chasing, cornering the beast; it’s true and you’re slitting its spinal cord, the smell of foul blood filling your nostrils while your fellow hunters laugh. It’s _you_.  
  
  
They’re very different after all, them and her, because sometimes she has to give up the hunt in favor of setting a house on fire. _They_ will never have to carry that burden.

  
-  


If she had any desire to look up a definitions for these things, she’d say she’s asexual. You wouldn’t say that of her, what with her very active sexual life, but she just doesn’t really care for it other than when it gets the job done.

It always gets the job done.  


-  


Whenever she comes to visit her brother, Victoria always gives her these looks. Half tense-half pitying, like she let a cage-fight dog into her house because it looked miserable and keeps wondering when it will backfire on her. She’s not a bad woman, but, god, does it piss Kate off.

  
She remembers the night Allison was born, she and Chris met up on the edge of the nearest forest; his wife and child asleep in the hospital just a few miles away. They got drunk until their limbs felt like they would stick to the dirt and moss, until vines and roots grew around them, until they belonged. He was better than anyone else at understanding her. He didn’t understand her at all. He had passed her another bottle then, after a few hours of sitting and talking and soaking in each other’s company, “D’you ever think he ruined us?”  
  
Kate laughed and laughed and laughed until she choked on her spit, then fell down, coughed, and laughed again.  “No, brother, he built us.”  
  
Chris sighed with a weary kind of flavor, and she scrambled to get a hold of her thoughts- she forgot he needs clarifications. She had falsely imagined again, in a drunken haze, that they are joined by blood and marrow and thought and that he _knows her_. Clarifications. Right.  
  
“There was nothing to ruin yet.”

 

-  


Kate doesn’t know how to use the internet, in fact she doesn’t even know what it can offer her. She can never find the right book in the library, and is incredibly lousy at research. That just comes with a full-life training regiment and no school. On the bright side, Chris didn’t get to go to school as well, so they always had each other for company, and there was no envy between them. School was for the normal people, for the comfy, pliant ones who weren’t supposed to see into other side. School was for children playing on the sidewalk. That was fine. Really, _fine_.

  
What she does know is a set of skills that few humans have need of - she has leadership and strategic thinking, quick decision making, she’s fast on her feet and faster with her hands; she’ll load a gun and shoot your brains out before you get a chance to blink. She smells the danger and hears the careful fall of footsteps, stalks and plans and _cleanses the earth_.  
  
However, that means that when she needs to make something flammable when it shouldn’t be, Kate has to utilize her least favorite skill, that of seduction. A school teacher! Ha.  
  
Sometimes she wishes Gerard supplemented ways of execution with maybe just the basics of Chemistry.  


-  


Things to do in Beacon Hills: Pretend to Be a Competent Staff Member of a High School, Seduce a Kid, Hire Minions, Start a Fire, Go Away Forever. Return. Die.  


-  


Her niece is a beautiful, pure girl, soft and human. She goes to school.  
  
  
When they were suddenly _more_ , Christopher had watched with weary eyes, like he couldn’t trust her, like when his wife undoubtedly said to him “Allison won’t become like her.”, a veil was lifted from his eyes; like he saw her for the first time, and he became afraid, as if he hadn’t washed blood from her face at thirteen, hadn’t buried her bodies. She was so sure he saw her. Illusions, illusions.  
  
But of course little Allie won’t become like her; she will have a safe home and a joyful childhood, both her parents to teach her values, and her beloved aunt to teach her how to protect herself; she will have her bow.  
  
Victoria insisted on joining them on every training session, watchful. She didn’t think Kate could go half an hour without preaching her world view, but she was wrong. Kate smiled and laughed and told her little girl how sometimes you just have to be able to kick someone if they try and hurt you and, oh, doesn’t it feel so much better in your body now that you can easily, gracefully move it just so..  
  
In the end of these visits she always left Chris to this life that he built, this urban concrete bed he made, those loving hands and safe corners and the family legacy, indisputably waiting for Victoria, and the family motto - “We Kill Those Who Hunt Us.”  
  
Chris was always softer; a protector. She just killed werewolves.  


-  


There was blood on her tongue, coating it in slick metallic spit, just like old times. She should never have come back, but oh god- Allison. One of them had Allie by the heart and the girl looked at him like she welcomed it, like he didn’t mark her with his scent by way of a careless hand through the length of her lovely hair. He came into Allie’s heart, home, family. He would hold her and make her his own, but she was in love, so that seemed like a good thing. Kate watched the kid and imagined his eyes fading from red to _dead_.  
  
In the end he wasn’t the Alpha. What an amateur mistake, Katie, damn you. Correlation does not equal causation - she heard that once while loitering around a group of schoolkids in a museum. He wasn’t the murderous Alpha she came here for. She still wished him dead though, wished it was _his_ throat exposed and raw, gushing hot liquid. But _he_ lived.  
  
  
She had hoped to be buried in dirt.


	2. after life

Mexico was hot, confusing. Her mind was muddy and unfocused. Wasn’t she dead? Sometimes things penetrated through the fog, and she heard herself laughing, speaking to someone, to herself? Her muscles felt tight and crawling, growing back into neat lines. That wasn’t right. Humans don’t heal that way. Wasn’t she dead?

 

A century had passed, then another, the fog lifted and left her breathless facing a monstrous thing made of hide and bones, snarling in delight at something her mouth had been saying. Dead mouths don’t move. Dead eyes don’t see. No sound reaches her- it must be a dream.

 

Another millennia crawled by until she found herself back in that cursed town. That had tipped her to the improbability of everything because she wouldn’t be caught dead in that place again. Wasn’t she dead? Christopher shot her with a wolfsbane bullet, and it burned down to the soul, to the very atoms of her being, to the brain matter that wondered when he modified the plant to harm humans. He has time now, she thought out of the blue, he’s left all alone. Alone? But what about..? Wait. Wasn’t she dead?

 

She felt her muscles straining to close and let the fog engulf her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a drabble. I figured she would have pretty extreme coping mechanisms. Also keep in mind I literally didn't see anything beyond season 2 because why. Why would I. Why hurt myself with disappointment. So - general info from the Teen Wolf WIKI.


End file.
